The Heartbreak and Renewal of Bella Swan
by R.A.Tourish
Summary: After the devastating end to Bella and Edward's relationship Bella must come to terms with the loss of her true love. The following is an except from Bella's diary in which she writes a combination of poetry and other creative works. In this chapter she comes to terms with her hate and blooming sexuality. Rated M for strong langue and adult themes. Read at own risk. Enjoy (Oneshot)


Disclaimer: I don't own Twliight.

The Heartbreak and Renewal of Bella Swan

Jellied bugs swathed in the excrement of broken promises propel themselves through the diamondized tubes that clawed their way out of the greasy, turgid drum. They impregnated the near-indestructible surface with their hooked groins, leaving behind a slick train of acidic frost that summons great clouds of tumultuous, poisonous fog. It yawns to swirl behind closed lids, tainting the world pink like the rainbow arch of a foot subdued by the reed that watched over the baby Moses.

Innocents lost she screams out to the celentities that watch her as they play poker.

"Go fish," says Allah.

"Us," curses Zeus as the moral gurgles on the tears of selfish gremlins and the molten blood that rips away from her piglet throat.

Her torso convulses over waterfalls of woven insect filament, the planks of pine that hold memories of child urine and squeals drawn from the fingertips of whore dreams groan under her spasms. Fingernails bite into her victorious flesh leaving behind wounds that seep staples and star-pointed glass directly into her expanding core. The expanse of space consumes the hidden salivating slut whose raven hair binds her wrists, unable to retreat to the no-longer future of fairy's lies, but propelled even deeper into the blinding light filled with the fucking of angelics.

The black mirror that reflects only the flaws from the cottage cheese mothers and tiny pricked men laughs at the girl's axe hacked smile. It shatters in two, sending lances decorated with the cramping intestines of virgins through her body. From the holes maggots wriggle, freed of their jewelled tombs. Wings rip away from their bodies allowing them to fly away, their forms swollen with the same toxin laced vapours that leak from her weeping orifices.

They infect everything around the girl, wailing with her, a chorus of self-righteous ignorance and conceited bliss. The helpful ones are sucked dry, great gushes of blood spurting from a thousand lemon pinpricks. As they empty their vibrant innards in offering to the girl their skin turns the colour of rotting flesh.

"Rid them of their hair," says Poseidon.

"They have sinned against their common senses," agrees Allah, basking in his swimming pool of riches as the snot stained bills fall from a blood streaked sky.

Hair joins the red carpet, a premier of what could be due to lack of worth. One by one the infected scoop up their remains and paint it onto their bald heads. Its slides over their taut, shiny skin, a mask to hide their bored expressions that sneak into the guise of concern. They spray the flies with spit and kind truths that shriek the tune of an out of key clarinet.

And then the girl finds herself alone again, smeared with her own excrement, soft and malleable like afterbirth, but with a stench of rose littered corpses. She yowls at her predicament, her blindness due to eyelashes crusted with ordure.

She begins to sew up her holes with a finger threaded with her own hair, mending the torments she let fester before gripping at her polished skin and peeling away her onion layers. Sourer on the inside, but decidedly delicious she bares her rippling, coiling muscles. They squelch as she moves, encasing her bones like velveteen lips. Seagull swoop down her peck at her exposed gloriousness, but make little headway. For within the bulging hunks of power meat the traces of poison remain. She, vaccinated, feels little of its searing pain—scolding tea in the lap of a college drop-out. It makes her stronger, grotesquely impenetrable with her holes sewn close.

As her own nightmare she finds herself undeniably and unintendedly beautiful, touching her own cheers with a lover's touch. It reminds her of the one who left her to a pit of razors, salt and realised lies and she roars with the satisfaction of a female spider. She will chew up his body before the day is done, spitting chunks of his manhood along the walls until the blood splatters form the word _revenge_. She laughs and her black, slug tongue wets her swollen mouth hungrily, spinning a wet of fantasies that make her poison bubble and froth.

She will sting him and leave him stuck in her inescapable web.


End file.
